


What's in Pieces

by primrooks



Category: Sofia the First (Cartoon)
Genre: Estranged childhood friends, Gen, Reconciliation, Relationship-affirming nighttime talks aka the only genre of fic I write, also this fic is one giant season 4 spoiler so be warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 02:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14684526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primrooks/pseuds/primrooks
Summary: After the events at the museum opening, Roland takes a moment to properly clear the air with an old friend.





	What's in Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> After not writing fic for years, I just had the urge to do a scene with these two before this week's succession of new Sofia episodes. It's also by far the longest fic I've finished, and I'm happy to say I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out!
> 
> EDIT: Some touch-ups were done around the two-thirds mark, just to make the conversation more clear and not too reliant on canon-based subtext (Nov 7, 2018).

The frogs by the castle moat had just started to sing their rounds when dinner wrapped to a close. The children returned to their rooms to finish up on school assignments, and Roland knew he had his own work waiting in the office: papers concerning trade agreements, border fort maintenance, structural damage, and of course, an alert for a dangerous, magic-wielding thief. He promised Constable Miles that he’d submit a detailed account by the morrow to distribute throughout the kingdom’s guardsmen, and so that was top priority.

He kissed Miranda good night before heading back to work, a small pang in his chest from recalling how shocked she was when he’d recounted the days’ events to her before dinner. Sofia’s life had been in grave danger, and it clearly pained Miranda that she hadn’t been there to help.

“What matters is that she’s safe and sound at home, Miranda. Hold onto that, rather than any guilt over what could have been,” Roland gently reminded her, holding her in his arms until she stopped trembling. After several deep breaths, his queen swiftly swept her thumb across her eyes and looked up at him with a smile.

“I’m glad that both you and Cedric were there to protect her.” Then worry thinned her mouth into a set, solemn line. “But the fact that this Prisma woman escaped...”

“I’ll have a report sent out by the morning. We’ll have every guard in Enchancia on the lookout for her,” said Roland.

“I know you’ll do everything in your power to find her, but from what you’ve told me she’s incredibly powerful, and not afraid to even hurt children. We’ll have to tighten security around the palace as well, and keep a close eye out for her and her two lackeys,” she asserted. 

“We’ll be prepared, Miranda. I promise.”

Still, it frustrated Roland that all he could do at the moment was pen down what Prisma looked like and hope for the best. Sofia had been able to help with a description of one of Prisma’s animal cohorts: a magical creature called a strangeling that always bore a large, pale diamond mark on his body. She told him that she’d seen him and Prisma try to steal something from Royal Prep not too long ago, leading Roland to schedule an urgent meeting with the headmistresses for the day after tomorrow. 

Then there was the matter of Prisma’s other underling, Wormwood. From what he could tell, the raven stumbled into her employ by chance at the museum. Cedric genuinely knew nothing about the woman, though he had an inkling why she was after the crown at the exhibit. As to why his companion would turn coat like that however, even Cedric seemed unsure. Or perhaps he knew the answer, but wasn’t ready to acknowledge it. It was hard to tell when all his sorcerer left him was a “Don’t worry, sire, this is my mess, not yours.”

_Not yours._

With a terse huff, Roland placed his pen down on the desk to recall memories that had been gathering dust for years. While he, Cedric and their sisters grew up and played together in the castle nursery, matters shifted once they started attending school. Roland, like most royal scions before him, was enrolled into the Royal Preparatory, while Cedric was placed in Hexley Hall.

They’d still see each other whenever possible, especially when their fathers were such close friends. But as they entered adolescence, any time spent together grew shorter. Roland jumped at the chance to travel and join any clubs or events with his friends from the academy, while Cedric entrenched himself in his studies.

It was around then that he first acquired Wormwood, as was custom for young sorcerers. Cedric grew only more distant and (in Roland’s opinion) awkwardly formal around him, seeming to much prefer the raven’s company. But if nothing else, Cedric was always an attentive caretaker, and the bird rarely left his side.

So what could have prompted him to defect for a complete stranger? Was Prisma just that crafty? Or did it have something to do with his old master?

Roland left the study and made his way through the halls and up the tower to Cedric’s workshop. The royal sorcerer usually retired to his own lodgings around the evening, but he hoped that he could catch him beforehand. They still had much to discuss about what transpired earlier today, and more still.

...Much more, when he stopped to think about it.

He knocked three times on the locked door.

“Cedric? Cedric, are you there? It’s me.” He knocked twice more. When no answer came, Roland was about ready to return to his paperwork.

“Your Majesty?”

In surprise he turned his head to see Cedric, who had one hand reaching for the keys in his robe pocket.

“Oh, good. I wanted to talk to you about what happened today and-“ he stopped to sniff at how... not dank the workshop entrance suddenly smelled.

“Is that guava?” he asked.

“Ah, I was just by the baths for a bit of rejuvenation. It’s part of an all-nighter ritual,” Cedric explained, unlocking the door.

“All-nighter?” The two stepped into the workshop, which was more well-lit than Roland could recall seeing it. The curtains were drawn up to a scenic view of the moat at dusk, and various candles and floating lights adorned the walls. The orange and yellow lights worked to contrast the mossy-blue bricks of the tower, casting the room in warmly brown shadow. They even made the messy potion desk and cauldron look rustic and welcoming.

“After that thief Prisma assaulted us, I figured that I ought to come up with some measure of magical protection.” From his desk, Cedric picked up a bright bronze ring adorned with a simple red jewel.

“This one ought to be good for warding off mid-level spells,” he elaborated, handing the ring to Roland. “If you don’t mind, sire, would you put this on to help me test it? My usual assistant is absent at the moment.” Curious, Roland nodded and slipped the charm on his right ring finger.

“Alright, but what’s-?“ he stopped when he saw Cedric pick up a wand, then steady himself into a straighter stance.

“ _Eclairactio!_ ” With a sharp cry and a sharper flick, his wand emitted a bright streak of jagged teal lightning right at the king’s head. Roland shut his eyes and drew his right arm up in a panic, bracing himself for the impact.

He felt none. When he opened his eyes, he was still standing in one piece, unchanged save for a greenish glimmer now swirling in the ring.

“What was that?!” he cried out.

“It... it worked! Right on the first try!” Cedric uttered breathlessly, unaware of how he’d nearly given Roland a heart attack.

“What worked? More importantly, what would’ve happened if it didn’t?!” the king exclaimed. 

“No need to worry, King Roland, the lightning bolt was mostly for effect,” said Cedric, waving his hand in (supposedly) a reassuring gesture. “That was just a very, very, very, VERY minor shock spell, and if it hit you it wouldn’t have been more than a pinch. Ideally. But what’s more important is that the warding ring worked! And with it, I ought to have a good starting point!” Cedric replaced his wand and darted back to his desk, drawing up jars containing what looked like bronze powder and coral.

Still somewhat rattled, Roland drew the ring from his finger and looked at it quizzically. “Starting point?”

“Well, I can’t just stop at one talisman,” Cedric answered, briefly flicking his head up before sorting out his beakers. “I should have enough for you, your family, as well as your main guardsmen. Oh! I also have some ideas floating around for alarms and tracking charms, but I ought to be focusing on this first.”

If Roland hadn’t thought that he’d met a sudden, lightning-induced end, this would’ve been the most shocking thing to happen at the workshop that night. Cedric mainly dealt in potions and incantations, and the king knew from his own schooling that talismans required a more intensive approach than either. The crafter had to imbue an object with their own power, rather than channeling a portion of it with spells, and for a long time Cedric had enough trouble with those.

“I remember when Goodwin would also make talismans like these for my parents, but I don’t believe I’ve seen you create one,” said Roland.

At that, Cedric halted his collecting frenzy, before turning to lean back against his desk. “Well, they’re rather common in most magic shops, for a price. Besides,” he paused, crossing his arms, his gaze set to the floor, “I’m not the most confident about my crafting skills.”

“Really? But you got this on the first try, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and I’m as surprised as you,” Cedric replied, a bitter edge to his tone. Roland suddenly remembered how Cedric usually reacted to mentions of his father, and his mouth suddenly parched.

“Anyway, what is it you wanted to ask me about?” asked Cedric, eager to change topics. Normally, Roland would follow along but… it snagged at his conscience, knowing that things weren’t always like this.

Whenever their families or someone at court chided Roland for his mischief or Cedric for his fretfulness, the boys would confide in each other over hours of dazzleball practice. They didn’t beat around the bush when conversations turned awkward; they answered as candidly as little boys could, and yelled and laughed and cried with nary a sense of judgment.

As a young man, Roland used to look back to such days with embarrassment, vowing to never let himself be seen in such a vulnerable state. He put it all behind for years, and only now was he beginning to grasp how formative those days really were -  how they cultivated his honesty and empathy as a father, husband and king.

He looked back up at Cedric. The weary, slightly hunched man before him was a far cry from the starry-eyed lad he once was, but something of his old friend was still there. There had to be.

“I must have given you quite a bit of grief over the years, haven’t I?” Roland asked, his voice carrying a quiet tremble.

Cedric gave a tired sigh. “Oh, you needn’t blame only yourself. I had my father and sister and most of the magical community to point and pick apart my mistakes. You at least tried to be patient with me.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t much different from all your other critics,” Roland confessed. “Like everyone else, I began to blame you for your blunders. I dreamed that we could be as great a pair as our fathers were, but by the time you were officially employed as my royal sorcerer, I felt... resigned to you, and opted to keep you in the sidelines.”

He found that he was fiddling with the ring, and pocketed the charm to keep his focus on Cedric.

“I kept justifying to myself that it was to uphold the dignity of the kingdom, when really I was just trying to save face and hide my disappointment.”

Cedric stared at him, saying nothing. As the pause dragged on, Roland felt sharp prickles down his spine, and mentally berated himself for even bringing up the topic of their childhood like this. He should be asking him questions about Wormwood and possible leads on Prisma, not venting all of his negative thoughts. And just when he started to call him “old friend...”

“I see.”

Cedric said it so serenely, and that more than anything caught the king off-guard.

“You’re calmer about this than I expected,” Roland remarked.

His sorcerer reached for a small jar of coral, fingers tapping on the cork lid. “I’ve suspected as much. You may have never called me a disappointment, but I could always read it on your face.”

_Could he now?_ thought Roland. “I apologize for making you feel uncomfortable. I just couldn’t get through my own misgivings.” He then took a deep breath, pushing aside his unease for the truth he’d buried for so long.

“I can’t pin down just when it happened, but at some point, you felt like a stranger to me. Especially when we were teenagers, you started acting so high-strung around me, often hiding yourself away. It confused me to say the least, but I was afraid to ask what was wrong. So I clung to all the vicious gossip about you, when I should’ve sought out the truth myself.”

Cedric ran a hand across his hair, briefly lost in thought. “You were busy with your own life. And besides, you weren’t the only one buying into those rumors.

“I realized around that time that I simply wasn’t as good a sorcerer as my father or Cordelia, and I pushed so many people away then. Even when people tried to be kind, I simply took it for pity. Add to that, seeing you constantly being adored by everyone around you, it struck me then that you’d always have the spotlight. And rather than standing by your side like I’d always imagined, I’d just be sulking in your shadow.” Cedric pinched his brow, then looked straight at Roland.

“But standing in your shadow was better than just being alone. When the full weight of being your royal sorcerer finally dawned on me, I grew so nervous that you’d lose patience with me once and for all, and that I’d be left with nothing.”

Cedric’s breath caught, his eyes darting to the floor and back. And with a tighter grip on the table edge he said, “As much as I wanted to take what you had, make you feel what I’ve felt for all these years, I... I didn’t want you to lose faith in me. If you did, at least if I wore your crown as mine, it would have been on my terms.”

Even in the warm light, the room grew tense and chilly under the weight of his words.

Roland wasn’t sure how to follow up on that. He wished that there was some clear source to blame; their parents, schools, duties - all the things that kept them apart and ate up their time. But he could have prioritized his friend for once during all that; he knew there’d been plenty of chances. It might have saved them a great mess years later. And yet Roland had been stubborn and quick to condemn his oldest friend, which only built on Cedric’s resentment.

“I wish we could’ve had this talk years ago, before I was crowned king,” he said, his head hung low.

“I don’t believe either of us could have. I mean, I was sketching out crown designs before even graduating from Hexley Hall,” Cedric jested.

The joke was briefly lost on Roland, who looked up at him with a stunned expression.

“Er, too soon?” he squeaked.

The king was almost at a loss for words. Cedric always had an odd talent for throwing him off, whether it was through a nervously-cast spell, a clumsy joke or- 

A memory suddenly flashed across his eyes. It was faint, obscured by dense mental fog, but the emotions rang clear enough. A smile twitched at his mouth, and he walked over to lean against the potion table as well, about a foot away from where Cedric stood.

“You know, I really should have suspected you to be a traitor since we were kids. After all, you did try to make me eat a whole lizard,” Roland reminded him impishly.

Cedric’s brow rose high, then furrowed. “What do you-Oh.” His face eased as the memory came back to him, before pinching in indignity. “Oh, but it wasn’t like I was plotting your demise when I was six!”

“It was a _live_ lizard, Cedric. You wanted me to eat it live,” Roland prodded.

“That’s how you get the most out of a bounty lizard! If you’d actually eaten it back then, you’d be as strong as an ox and fast as a cheetah, and no disease could ever touch you. You’d be more than just a king, you’d be a legend!” asserted Cedric, his hands waving as excitedly as his voice.

“And I’m content to be just a king, really.”

“You could’ve at least let me keep it!” he balked. “I’ve never been able to find another bounty lizard since, and every time I said I did find one, even held one in my hands, everyone thought I was making it up. And you just _had_ to throw it back into the water, never to be seen again.”

“I was afraid YOU were going to eat it!”

“Oh, and you handled it with such care, chucking it into the lake like a stick!” the sorcerer retorted, swinging his arm about in an exaggerated arc.

“I was-!” The memory crystallized, and the more vividly it took form, the more absurd it became. Roland couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Well, I was panicking!”

“Were-were you really?” He tried to disguise it as a cough, Cedric could barely contain his own snicker behind his hand.

Roland let out a heartier laugh. “Of course! You kept shoving it in my face saying ‘Eat it! Eat it for the kingdom!’”

Cedric snorted, and shook his head in disbelief. “Oh, I can’t believe I’d forgotten all about that. I think that was the one time I actually scared you.”

“Between the two of us, I always thought I was the troublemaker,” said Roland.

“It _was_ frustrating seeing you get away with all your little pranks. And when you’d gang up against me with Cordy and Tilly, UGH, that was the worst! But it did make the Royal Prep Prank Day a real bright spot every year,” Cedric said with a sly smirk.

Roland gave a surprised chuckle. “Do they still-“

“Your children never told you? I was even there that day, substituting!”

“How did that go?”

“Oh, what, you think I was beaten back by a bunch of preteen sorcerers?” balked Cedric, his arms crossed in defiance.

“Were you?” the king goaded.

“Er, what’s important is that everything turned out perfectly fine, and that we were able to save the day under my instruction!” Cedric touted. Roland grinned, noting that he’d have to get the full story from his kids later.

“It does seem like it.” He affectionately patted a hand against Cedric’s back.

“You really have come a long way these past few years,” Roland spoke in all sincerity. “And it’s good that we can finally talk like this again.” Not as king and sorcerer bearing the burden of legacy, but as friends who conversed like brothers.

“I agree,” Cedric responded, his posture now more laid-back and nearly reaching Roland’s height. Suddenly, the light in his eyes changed, and he turned his head toward the window, now showing a fully dark night sky. He then walked up to an empty bird perch by the glass, and gave a dry laugh. “If only he could see me now.”

Roland had almost forgotten. “How are you feeling? I mean, I know how much you cared for him.”

After a moment, Cedric shrugged. “Wormwood’s always been a clever bird, but I’m afraid I rubbed off on him in all the wrong ways.” He then tapped a finger against the metal perch, a tinny _ting, ting_ ringing across the room.

“Since practically the first day I met him, I’d confide most of my grievances and ehm, designs to him, making it seem like everything in the world was out to get me. And by extension, him.”

“What do you think he hopes to gain by joining forces with this Prisma woman?” Roland asked.

The other man scowled. “Hopefully, nothing at all. If he feels more at home with her than me, even after all I’ve done for him, that’s his choice,” he stated with his hands on his hips.

“And yet…” Cedric’s tone simmered, and he looked somewhere beyond the window. “He may have rejected me as his master, but I still find myself worrying if he’s been fed properly, or if he’s found some shelter for the night. It... it just might take some time to adjust, that’s all.”

He tucked the perch away to lean against the side of a tall cabinet. His shoulders were hunched again, and it pained Roland to think that he was leaving his friend to work alone all night for those talismans.  

“Then I’d say it’s best you head back to your room for the night, and get some rest.”

Cedric faced back at him, eyes wide. “But there’s still so much to do, and-!”

Roland raised a hand. “We’ve both had a long day, and it would ease me to know that you’ve had some proper sleep for tomorrow.”

Cedric anxiously twiddled his hands, as if unsure of what to do with them. “Please, just a few more hours.”

“I’d prefer if you turned in early,” he countered, careful not to sound patronizing. “I know how talismans can take a toll on you, and I think you’ve already done well to make one working prototype.” Seeing his sorcerer try to raise another protest, he came up and gently grasped Cedric’s shoulder.

“I am happy with what you’ve done today.”

He’d hoped that he wouldn’t take any slight to his words, and thankfully, judging by how his friend’s sheepish smile reached his eyes, it seemed as if he didn’t.

“Well, if you insist.” Getting back to his desk, Cedric got to cleaning up his workspace for the day. “Will you be retiring soon as well?” he asked.

“After I get some forms sorted. It shouldn’t take long,” Roland answered. He found his way to the workshop door, noting how the moon glowed in full tonight.

“Good night, then,” he called as he closed the door behind him.

“Good night, Roland.” He caught the tail-end of that sentence just as the door shut. Roland stood there for a moment, before heading back to his office in a more content state of mind than when he’d left it.

This mess might take years more to fully undo, and they each had matters to amend. But at the very least, they were no longer boys who had yet to figure themselves out. And the window to tomorrow was still open.


End file.
